


Bug Collecting

by RandyRandii



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Barlock, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandyRandii/pseuds/RandyRandii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has finally drummed up enough courage to walk into his first gay bar, you'll never guess who's working there. (You will, it's in the tags. IT SOUNDS BETTER IF WORDED ALL SUSPENSEFUL)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bug Collecting

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by:  
> Anonymous asked: Sherlock working in a gay bar and it is part of his job to wear short shorts and fish nets.  
> ewmartin:  
> johnlock au first meeting. john goes to that gay bar to try to become more comfortable with being finally being open about his bisexuality and when he goes to get a drink, he meets sherlock (he’s all smirks and cheekbones.) they end up talking all night and go home together so sherlock can show him his bug collection, e.g. ‘i want to suck your dick, john’

John’s hands clenched as he walked up to the innocuous black door and he hesitated for half a beat before he opened the door.

A blast of warm sweaty air and thumping music hit John as soon as he opened the door and his eyes widened fractionally as he swept the curtain aside and saw the body count on the dance floor downstairs. He made his way down the metal stairs, winding through twerking grinding bodies and grabbing hands, to the bar. “Two fingers of whiskey please, straight,” he said as his eyes roamed behind the bar at the many different kinds of alcohol.

"None of those will catch your eye, you’re better off sticking with the whisky," a voice said. John looked towards the bar tender and everything seemed to slow down. The man was wearing a plum coloured t-shirt that was one size too small with black shorts and fishnets, his brown hair falling in neat curls around his ears and his mercurial blue eyes that were lightly lined in black that were focused on John.

"Er," John patted his back pocket pulling his wallet out and handing the man a twenty pound note "thanks. How can you tell about the drinks?"

The man smirked, “Your shirt is new, but has been washed several more times than it has been worn, your jacket is freshly pressed but it’s over ten years old, you put it in storage when you signed up to the army, so obviously you don’t like any new kind of alcohol that these pubescent twats do. Am I right, sir?” he finished, laying his elbows on the counter and lining his hands prayer like up to his mouth.

"Y-" John coughed and took a drink of his whisky, "Yes. That’s amazing," he said, awestruck.

"Really?" The man looked perplexed.

"Of course! How did you know I was in the army?" John sat on the bar stool and sipped his whisky.

"Tan that doesn’t extend up your wrists or below your collar, either you weren’t very into your vacation or you weren’t on one, army hair cut that has had time to grow out but you have kept it up, means you were out on the field long enough that it is habit, and a slight limp with a tight shoulder, tells me that where ever you were you got hurt." He moved one of his fingers against his mouth, and John felt a tingle run up his own fingers.

"Right about all of that, you are bloody excellent!" John laughed and shot back his whisky. "I’m John, by the way, mister…"

"Holmes. Sherlock Holmes," The man smiled, "But you can call me Sherlock."


End file.
